Archive for October 21st, 2016

Of Tigers and Feathers – Day 57

It’s interesting, but no one has precisely asked, “why tigers and feathers” yet.
I almost want to just leave it a question and see what people come up with. Why, indeed, tigers and feathers? Of which tigers do we speak of? Of what feathers do we weave our dreams?

Speaking of emotional labor, today, somewhat out of the blue, my aunt told me that my uncle who drank pesticide kicked up a great fuss about returning back to the ancestral home hours away from everyone else in the family and then proceeded to do so. She also told me not to tell my father lest he worry.

My immediate reaction: Why tell me? Why tell me if I’m not to tell my father immediately? You’re his sister and you’re in contact with him weekly, sometimes daily, and you’re telling me this after I tell you that I’ve had a fever? Why in the world?

Boundaries. It appears that the theme of my life is boundaries.

It’s funny, because I am queen of blurring boundaries. I like to melt, to meld, and I am infamous for being completely willing to divulge any and all intimacies within minutes of meeting someone. I like to think that I give trigger warnings and I don’t tend to spill things on people without being asked or if it’s not necessary in some way.

But then again, it could just be more of the same karma. You get what you throw around, and all that.

Something occurs to me.

Ladies and gentlemen, listen up please, I don’t want to be your hero.
No, I am not open. Parts of me are broken.
Do yourself a favor; save yourself. Don’t pick me, find someone else.
Why’d you want to bother? Find yourself another.

- Darren Hayes – Hero

For fuck’s sake, Katje, when someone tells you that they don’t want to be your hero – pay the hell attention.
But then, like I said, I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer when it comes to such things.

患得患失。Lately I’ve been tripping into Fear a lot and I’m tired of it.

Come and hold my hand
I wanna contact the living
Not sure I understand
This role I’ve been given
I sit and talk to God
And he just laughs at my plans
My head speaks a language
I don’t understand

I just wanna feel
Real love feel the home that I live in
Cos I got too much life
Running through my veins
Going to waste
I don’t wanna die
But I ain’t keen on living either

- Feel, Robbie Williams

And this is why tigers and why feathers. To remind myself that I’m not the center of anyone’s universe but my own. To remember that promises can be broken just as easily as made, even with the best of intentions. To internalize the truth of how the only way to fly is to be somehow lighter than air.

Illness is a terrible thing. Not just in of itself, which it is, but because of how quickly it tears down all of my defenses. It’s when there are no more spoons in my pocket and I’m flailing mid-air for more wishes. When I want to limpet onto someone because yet another hurricane is raining wrath down on the land. When I laugh at the futility of waiting and giggle at the notion of lingering and hoping gaining anyone anything ever. When the rains are depressing and the sunlight is debilitating.


Go away, Fear. I don’t want to talk to you today. I don’t actually want to talk to you, ever, but I guess sometimes you can come in handy. Just, again, just not today and not tomorrow either.

I might not get that embrace I need, but there’s hot water in the shower. Maybe I can’t curl up in someone’s lap the way I want to, but I have a pile of blankets and the option to buy more. This fever isn’t going to last forever, and once it’s gone, I’ll be back up to my tricks and kicking ass. My stupid sick brain might have Bonnie Tyler’s Holding Out For A Hero running on infinite loop, but some quiet ignored corner is singing Tata Young’s Cinderella as loudly as it can to drown out the noise.

I’ve been dispensing advice like crazy lately. Remember to breathe. Don’t sweat things if those around you aren’t. Give yourself a break. Don’t call yourself stupid when you’re just anxious and stressed. Take care of yourself.
The irony that I’m now the one sleeping for 15 hours at a time with a fever probably brought on by doing too much is not lost on me.
However, it just proves my point. As I said to Eden last week, sometimes the only thing to do is to say, “Fuck you very much.”
Not no, because often people don’t understand that no is a complete sentence. No discussion necessary. No explanation required. No qualifications needed.
So just so the message is clear: fuck you, Fear. Fuck you very much.